


The Final Sequence

by CharlotteShay



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Closure, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, desmond deserved better, we will get the grand ending we deserve even if I have to write it MYSELF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteShay/pseuds/CharlotteShay
Summary: End of Assassin's Creed 3.Desmond sacrifices himself to save the planet.But when he touches the Eye, he finds himself in an Animus-like world, with one last memory sequence to complete.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 103





	The Final Sequence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaos_monkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/gifts).



> This is a gift for chaos_monkey, because I wouldn't have written it without their genius brain and idea. (Chaos I hope you like it!)  
> Also their work is WONDERFUL, definitely check them out!

“Then the consequences of this mistake are yours to live – and _die_ -with.” Minerva took several steps back, disappointment clear across her face.

Desmond wanted to say so much more to her, to both of them. How pissed he was. How _tired_ he was. But there was no time. So he grit his teeth and turned to his friends – his family, he supposed.

“You need to go. All of you. Now. Get as far away from here as you can.”

His father shook his head. “Come with us.” He reached out and squeezed Desmond’s shoulder. “We’ll find another way.”

Desmond looked at the ground. Maybe at the start of all this, maybe somewhere in the middle of all this, he might have agreed to go. But he was right where he needed to be, and he hated that he knew it. “There isn’t time!”

Tears gathered in William’s eyes “Son…” He grabbed Desmond’s other shoulder.

Desmond swallowed, and took his father’s hands. His tone was almost soft now. “You know it’s true. It’s already started.” He pushed his hands away. “I need to do this now. So go.” Nobody moved. He threw his arms out, a gesture for them to leave. “Go!”

And once they finally started moving, he turned away.

There were no more words, no fond farewells, no thank you, no “I won’t forget you.” That shit only happened in movies after all. Figures.

Minerva was already gone, and he turned just in time to see Juno’s form dissolve. So he would die alone. Somehow it didn’t seem as scary as he expected it to be.

In an instant.

No pain.

Save the world.

He walked up to the eye, clenched his fist. No hesitation. Just.

Touch it.

And he did. Searing, white hot pain overtook his hand. A ringing in his ears. Blinding white light and then.

Then nothing.

He opened his eyes. The eye was gone. The Grand Temple was gone. Or, he decided, he wasn’t in the temple anymore. Not mentally, at least. No, this felt like the animus, like the in-between. He looked at his hand. No sign of burn marks. Maybe he was dead already?

No, that didn’t seem right. He didn’t _feel_ dead.

Desmond glanced around. The only solid thing in sight was an archway. Inside it was a mist. Pixels and glinting light and mysterious grey.

He didn’t have to use his Second Sight to know where he was supposed to go.

“It’s always gotta be something,” he sighed. Still, there was a world to save, and Juno to free. As he crossed through the twinkling mist, he felt a sharp pain in his hand, hot and intense.

Then it diffused through his body, less intense but still hot and painful and not at all what he was promised. Desmond pitched forward a little, pressed his hands into his knees. He grit his teeth, breathed through his nose, tried to ride out the feeling of fire in his veins.

Just as quick as it came, it left. No lingering heat or pain, nothing in his hand. He flexed his fingers, patted himself down. Nothing.

Maybe it was his physical body, feeling that pain, and it seeped through to wherever this was. The Eye, he supposed.

Only one thing to do. End it before he had to feel that shit again.

Desmond looked around the solid – mostly solid, really – surroundings. Platforms, bars, ladders. So the usual obstacle course. He didn’t mind that, preferred it to killing, really. Some assassins preferred the stealthy kills – or the not so stealthy, in certain Italian cases – but he enjoyed the climbing and parkour more. Gave him time to zone out, to be in his thoughts.

Though, as he climbed up to what he decided was the first platform, he wondered if he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

He was about to die. He was also about to free Juno from her prison so she could try and take over the goddamn planet. After all he went through, Desmond had hoped he’d have a bigger role to play. Something that didn’t involve dying or releasing an angry godlike woman onto the world.

H jumped backwards off the ledge, grabbed onto the pillar behind him. He groaned as he lifted himself up onto the pillar. Okay. Sacrificing himself for the world was pretty big, he could admit that. But something less _final_ would have been nice.

Desmond balanced his way across a beam, then leapt out to grab onto a chandelier. Or at least it looked like a chandelier. Maybe. Some kind of fixture. They were getting vague in their animus designs. Ch. Lazy, more like. He looked ahead and saw there was a small landing and opening above what he had assumed was the door. But the opening led to that pixeled mist from before. That had to be his true exit. Fine. He swung his body a little, to get the fixture swaying back and forth. When it got close, he launched himself off of it, towards the landing. It might be close, but he’d make it.

And then the pain was back. His hand burned, he could _smell_ the flesh burning. Instinctively, Desmond pulled his hand to his chest. Away from the edge of the landing.

“Shit!”

He reached out again, hoping to catch it, catch on to something, all while the burning sensation shot up through his arm. He wasn’t going to make it, oh this was going to fucking hurt.

And then a hand grabbed at his wrist, held tight. It hurt for a second, like they were pressing into raw burnt flesh, but the pain evaporated like before. Without the pain, he could grab onto the arm of his savior. Wait. He knew that arm. Desmond scanned upward, to the man’s hooded face. Ratonhnhaké:ton.

“I thought you were supposed to be the best of us.” Connor hoisted him up to safety, only letting go of Desmond’s arm once he was standing on his own two feet.

“Best of who?” Desmond rolled his shoulder. “What are you doing here, Connor?”

Connor tilted his head, crossed his arms. “You ask a lot of questions for one who is called a cypher.”

“Oh no,” he groaned, “Not you too.” Ezio had called him that once, some term used by the First Civilization. He was pretty sure it meant he was some sort of tool. It _felt_ a lot like he was a tool.

He expected there to be a speech following it, but Connor just stood there. Desmond had to admit, it was kind of amazing actually seeing the man in front of him. Tall, strong, confident, and daddy issues bigger than Desmond’s own. He never got to see how the rest of Connor’s life went, but he hoped it was good. Happy. Maybe not calm, but something enjoyable.

“Did you get up to much after the Revolution?” he asked. It sounded dumb in his head, and dumber out loud.

“Desmond, we do not have time for pleasant conversation.”

“I know,” he suddenly felt embarrassed by the question, but carried on, “It’s just- I saw that Ezio and Altair got to live good long lives after everything and we pulled me out after I saw where you put the amulet, so I didn’t know if…” He held up his hands in a question, but just sighed the rest of it away. This was ridiculous.

“I see.” Connor put his hood down and gave Desmond a small, almost amused smile. “I continued my work as an Assassin for most of my life. I married a woman from a nearby tribe. We had several children together. My daughter, Io:nhiòte, shared our gift. She continued the legacy.”

“And so on and so forth down to me,” Desmond rubbed the back of his neck. “It sounds like you made a decent life for yourself.”

“I did. I made mistakes. I have regrets. But it was a good life, and I lived in it for a long while.” Connor’s expression shifted into something sad, almost pitying. “I am sorry, Desmond.”

“What for?”

“You will not have that same luxury.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Desmond looked away, towards the mist beside them. “Yeah.”

“The gods told me something wise once, and I will pass it to you. Maybe that is what they wanted all along.” Connor looked off, like it took some kind of toll to remember the words. “You have made a difference. And you will do so again.”

Resisting the initial groan and sass of a response took a lot of Desmond’s self control. Oh, he remembered that. Juno being a real freakin’ peach, per usual. “Nice words, but I don’t think so. Not this time. It’s the end of the line for me…and our bloodline.”

Connor stared, then just shook his head. “There isn’t much time. You need to keep moving.”

“Right. Just gotta be more careful, I guess.” Desmond looked down at his hand. No pain, no burns, but he knew it’d be back. Knew the pain was getting worse each time. Like his consciousness couldn’t keep the physical world out as well anymore. The lines were blending.

He was dying.

Connor touched Desmond’s shoulder, bringing him back to the moment, his face serious as always. “As you have helped us in our journeys, we will help you in yours.”

“We?”

“You’ll see.” Connor turned him to the doorway. “Now go. And _hurry_ , Desmond _._ The world cannot wait.” He pushed Desmond forward, through the hole and the grey mist.

*

Desmond came out the other side, saw another series of platforms and jumps. He groaned. And when another jolt of pain bloomed through his hand, he cursed. When it spread to his arm, he screamed. He grit his teeth, squeezing his burning arm, trying to gear up for the next wave of pain. Instead it vanished, faster than before. Like it had been cut off from him, like he was fighting it somehow. Maybe he was. Still hurt like a _bitch_ though. He wasn’t sure how many more of these flashes of torture he could take.

It would really suck if he crashed and burned on his way to save the goddamn planet.

There will be no pain– Juno you lying _bitch_!” he shouted into the air, “If I fucking die before I get there, who’s gonna free your stupid ass from space jail, huh?!”

“ _Fratello mio_ , perhaps we should not insult the gods in here.” Desmond knew that voice. He looked around for the source. Instead he heard the sound of a mechanism clicking, something shifting, sliding, and watched as the door rolled open across the chamber. Then a few steps, grunts, and a landing. Out from behind a pillar strolled Ezio Auditore, a little winded but cocky as ever.

“Ezio!” Desmond couldn’t help but grin. “When Connor said help, I figured I’d get to actually do something.” But he walked around the chamber to the man nonetheless, reached out for a handshake.

Ezio frowned down at his hand, shook his head, and pulled Desmond in for an embrace. “Maybe with the others, but I think you have been with me a long time, Desmond. It is the least I can do.”

He hugged Ezio back, maybe a bit too hard. He was right, of course. He’d experienced so much of the man’s life, his love, his loss, his _everything_. Tears pricked at his eyes. Shit. Couldn’t start crying now. Not that Ezio would mock him for it, no he was too good a man. A little emotionally stunted, sure, but it seemed to run in the family.

Ezio had at least tried to overcome it, though. Desmond remembered Ezio’s speech about living his life as best he could, the only time he’d ever spoken to him directly. Desmond stepped back from him then but didn’t let go. Instead he seized Ezio by the arms and gave him what he hoped was a stern look.

“You said before, when you made it to Masyaf, that you were just a conduit for a message. You’re more than that, Ezio. I need you to know you were so much more than that. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” He huffed a laugh. “And I mean that in so many ways.”

Ezio’s face warmed over. “ _Grazie mille._ I did my best.”

“We- I- _You_ went through so much. There isn’t enough time left for me to explain everything or tell you how your life changed mine, so I just…want you to know your best was pretty damn good, then.” Desmond realized he was still holding onto Ezio. He let go, finally, and dropped his hands to his side. “It’s ah, it’s been an honor, Ezio.”

Ezio placed a hand on his neck, much like he used to do with his brother. He looked every bit as sorry as Desmond felt. “It has been a pleasure. Let us meet again, _in un'altra vita_.”

Desmond closed his eyes, shook his head a little. He felt a tear or two escape. But when he opened his eyes, Ezio was still giving him that sad smile. He clapped a hand on Ezio’s arm, squeezed a little. It was time to go.

They parted, Ezio waved and turned away. As he walked away – to where, Desmond had no idea – he called over his shoulder.

“ _Ciao_!”

A small smile escaped Desmond before he went forward, disappearing into the digital mist yet again.

*

This next chamber was empty, save for a hole in the middle. And there, by the edge, was Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

Of course. It ended how it started.

Desmond stood beside him, quiet and tired. So tired.

“Altaïr.”

The man nodded, his hood still up, still staring into that hole. He was taller than Desmond had expected, taller than him. But he was just as young as when Desmond started all this. Though he seemed to have the collectedness of his older years. Then something occurred to Desmond, maybe later than it should have.

“You’re not really here,” Desmond regarded the assassin, “are you?”

He saw the corner of Altaïr’s mouth lift in a smile.

“Are you?”

Desmond shrugged. “Fair point.”

A second dragged by and he caught himself chuckling. He wasn’t sure why, but then Altaïr joined in, and the two of them just laughed. Maybe it was hysteria setting in, the ridiculousness of all this, the bitter acceptance of his fate. They laughed for a good few seconds before settling down, laughter dwindled to chuckles, to sighs of amusement, to an amicable silence.

And then the pain returned.

It shot through his hand and arm faster than before, up into his chest, like his heart had caught fire. He could smell the burnt flesh, choking on the scent of his own body burning.

Desmond screamed, but he couldn’t hear it, couldn’t feel the sound rip from his throat. No. Everything was taken up by an agony unlike anything he’d felt before. Not as Altaïr, or Ezio, or Connor, or even himself. Even getting desynchronized was nothing compared to this slow fucking torture.

He spasmed from the pain, found himself pitching forward towards the hole. But then Altaïr’s hand was on his arm, sturdy, keeping him upright. The master assassin’s grip hurt, but it was a familiar pain. It grounded him. He focused on that, focused on Altaïr.

“Don’t fall,” the man said.

Desmond opened his mouth to scoff, but a pained gasp was all that came out. Altaïr’s expression didn’t change, he just watched Desmond, held onto him.

The pain vanished again. Like it was never there. Desmond couldn’t take much more of this. But he supposed he wouldn’t have to.

This was it.

“Thanks,” he murmured. Altaïr’s grip relaxed, but he kept his hand there.

“Of course.”

“I have to get down there anyway, don’t I?”

Altaïr nodded once. “But it has to be your choice.” He dropped his hand away from Desmond, took half a step back.

Desmond looked down into the hole, saw nothing. Not mist, not darkness, just an absence of anything. He knew there was nothing down there. He knew he had to go.

“Will you come with me?” He heard himself ask, his voice not quite right. Scared. Quiet. Like a kid asking for his father’s courage.

“No.”

Desmond wanted to feel hurt by it, but could only muster up a sigh. “Of course.”

“I can’t, Desmond. This is your journey alone.” Altaïr turned Desmond to face him. “You have traveled in the footsteps of your ancestors time and time again. Learned the ways of the Assassins throughout the centuries. Defeated the Templars and saved the world lifetimes over. You are a Master Assassin, Desmond, and this is your final mission.”

Desmond met his gaze for a long time, staring back at where it all began for him. He sighed, forced a bitter smile on his face. “Fuck it. One last mission, then.”

He held his arm out, and Altaïr grabbed it with a smile of his own.

“Good luck, brother.”

Altaïr seemed to dissolve into the air, all pixels and dust.

So he hadn’t been there. Maybe he never was. Maybe Desmond hadn’t really saved the world with each of them. Maybe they’d saved it all on their own, and he was just riding shotgun all this time.

Fine.

Then this was his turn.

Desmond took a breath, stood himself at the edge again, took a leap of faith.

And he fell.

He felt the world close in on him. Somehow, somewhere deep in his DNA, he wondered if he always knew it would come to this. Perhaps he felt it, and that was why he left the compound all those years ago. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered anymore.

He heard phrases, conversations, moments all around him. Scattered memories – his, and his ancestors – breaking down and out as he fell.

“ _All that is good in me, began with you_.”

“ _Nothing is true, everything is permitted._ ”

_“It might be that this idea is only the beginning of Wisdom.”_

_“Sometimes standing against evil_

_is more important than defeating it.”_

_“Might make a man feel like, he belongs to something.”_

_“The greatest heroes stand because it is right to do so,_

_not because they believe they will walk away with their lives.”_

_“Go forward, friend, unburdened and unafraid.”_

Then he could feel it. The choke point. The end. Solar flares coming. The Earth growing wise to their impending doom, electrical storms, worldwide blackouts, volcanoes erupting, families cowering together as the world shifts and trembles beneath them.

A shimmering shield enveloping the earth. The global aurora borealis device works.

Everything recedes, rewinds, settles back to normal. Humankind goes to bed, wakes up the next day. Just an unexplained phenomenon.

The cycle continues.

Desmond smiled.

A last flash of white hot light. No pain this time, no burning. Only light and a vision.

He saw all the assassins who came before.

All who would come after.

And then,

Nothing.


End file.
